On their fourth album Toronto’s Fucked Up pare things
back to a single LP. In contrast to the sprawling epic
of their last album, the punk rock opera David Comes
To Life, the new album returns to rock’n’roll basics,
verse-chorus-verse-chorus. It also features guitar
solos, mellotron and piano.

Recorded for the first time in analogue, with Bill
Skibbe (The Dead Weather, The Kills, Lower Dens,
Andre Williams), the album is bathed in a warm,
almost romantic glow. In particular, Jonah Falco’s
virtuosic drumming shines forth, each snare hit
shattering the air. Damian Abraham’s throaty growl is
not less punk, but the overall effect is a more human,
relatable Fucked Up.

While the imagery still includes the usual high-concept refrences (not least to classical mythology),
Abraham and Mike Haliechuk’s lyrics mostly address
the puzzle of being in a punk rock band while having
children and being in their early 30s. “So this is what
it’d be like? Everything bathed in a harsh bright light?
Why is the impact so immense? Maybe I know it
could have been me instead.”